


the memories the ocean carries

by lumieres (irlsugawara)



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies)
Genre: Confessions, Kissing, Post-The Death Cure, Spoilers, a little hurt/comfort but super minor, death mention (newt), sappy stuff i think, thominho - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28333233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irlsugawara/pseuds/lumieres
Summary: maybe a few months pass by, but he’s not sure- not when time skips by like children bouncing around in excitement. it comes, then it goes and even then, minho loses track of what time it is, of what day it is, of what month it is. steely eyes flit from sand to slab of stone, fingers tracing over every jagged letter until they trace an entire name and a few more. sea salt rushes up to his nostrils and chokes him from inside out.
Relationships: Minho/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	the memories the ocean carries

**Author's Note:**

> oh boy! this took me three days to write and i really got crackin' down on it a day after i binged all three movies in one sitting. thominho really grabbed me by the throat and stomped on me here. but i'll be honest? the moment i finished the death cure, i was in newtmas depression so this fic came out to curb that.
> 
> i hope you all enjoy this as a holiday and new years gift, ehe. it's half un-beta'd so go easy on me but please leave a kudos or a comment if you liked it! <3
> 
> also, just a little notice that i wrote this following along the movie since that's the only media i've consumed thus far; i'm currently reading through the series right now but i don't know much of the book version to confidently write for it. also x2, i've jumped around using the glader terms and casual swear words for minho bc i feel like that's just. how he'd speak. idk. ok! enjoy lol.

maybe a few months pass by, but he’s not sure- not when time skips by like children bouncing around in excitement. it comes, then it goes and even then, minho loses track of what time it is, of what day it is, of what month it is. steely eyes flit from sand to slab of stone, fingers tracing over every jagged letter until they trace an entire name and a few more. sea salt rushes up to his nostrils and chokes him from inside out. 

he remembers: it’s their fourth month in their safe haven and it’s a… friday. not a special day but special enough for minho, frypan, gally, and thomas to pay their respects to their lost ones. he clasps his hands in front of his chest then closes his eyes as he loses himself to the tune of the ocean lapping at their sorrow and at the sand that climbs around their feet. he asks for their forgiveness and asks for them to wait until they’re all reunited. minho thinks he feels a stray tear slip down his cheek but he’s hardly fazed by it. a deep inhale to will him back to the earth and then an exhale to ground himself. lashes flutter as he tilts his head to peer at thomas beside him, to watch as those features seem to age faster than anyone else’s. 

_they’ve lost many_ , minho thinks to himself. _over time, people would lose themselves to the grievers or be killed by wicked or become a crank or be left behind in the fire. gally, fry, and i are used to it but thomas…_ those eyes slide back to where his friend stands beside him, hazelnut hues glassy with unshed tears and lips trembling with quiet emotion. from the time minho had met thomas to now, he noticed one thing about him: he brought a trail of blazing fire with each and every step he took. however, it had been a gentle and warm fire— one where it hardly injured anyone and instead, welcomed anyone who’s curious. yet, he had been the one to suffer back-to-back losses. 

_newt. teresa._ minho tears his gaze from the stone and steps away first, elbow bumping against his friend’s lightly in a notion to come join him where he would stand at the shore, allowing the waves to lick at his skin. “you good?” he asks, voice a gentle timbre. thomas has the energy to smile loosely, shaking his head in his own odd way of reassuring minho but the taller knows better than to simply slap him on the back and leave him be. too many a time has he seen thomas stand at the shoreline, gazing at the ship with a distant look to those brown hues. minho can never tell exactly what it is thomas could be thinking of. “don’t lie to me, come on, thomas.” and here, minho laughs but his gaze sings a different tune— he’s serious.

“ _dude_ ,” but he can’t continue, no, thomas breaks into wet laughter that gently floats along with the rolling waves. minho cannot do anything but stand beside him with a warm, calloused palm resting in between the other’s shoulder blades. time skips by much too fast and it sweeps whatever it can along with it, leaving no mercy to those who simply are not ready to move on with the rest. time wasn’t kind to thomas, minho realizes with a burning nose, with reddened eyes. and he doesn’t deserve this pain. “i’m- fine. i’m fine. we should get back, they’re waiting.” but still, thomas stands up time and time again to show this face of a leader he was forced to don since their time as runners, since the time they decided to escape the maze. guilt stabs minho in the stomach, just lightly. 

“they can keep waiting,” he manages instead, masking the guilt. _thomas has enough to worry about, has enough to think about._ thomas’ gaze snaps back to his own liquid greys, disbelief briefly scrawling on those aged features but minho doesn’t back off so easily, no, he grabs his friend’s hand and tugs him into the second hug he’s ever given him since his awakening. 

and there’s something so warm, so calming about the way thomas relaxes against him and curls his arms around his own form. it feels right, it feels gentle, it feels like he can forget that they’re in a world where the sun eats the ground alive alongside a virus that claws up people’s throats. “minho,” he sounds choked up against his shoulder, and minho’s hand slides up and down the man’s back in a reassuring manner. 

“relax, thomas.” _even now, aren’t you still holding up a mask you can’t let down? relax._ “seriously, we’re at the safe haven now so can’t you just drop this whole leader shit you’ve been holding onto? did you even let yourself go ever since?” the words sound coarse and rude to his own ears but minho murmurs them with a fond sarcastic edge, holding his friend closer and closer to his heart. he can almost hear thomas’ scoff, can almost feel the palms coming out to push at his broad chest to push him away so he can glare at him with those glassy eyes because really, how dare he? how dare minho tell thomas what to do, how to feel?

so, he steadies himself for it. but he watches as thomas’ lips part and he watches as the hardness crumbles in those eyes because minho knows he’s right and a twisted part of him (minor, but it’s there) is glad there’s no room for argument there. he doesn’t reach out though and only pushes his hands into his pockets as his chest aches for the sullen expression pulling at the other’s pale skin. he watches as a pale, gloved hand comes up to aggressively push at his short locks, cylinder-like container colliding against his forehead when he does so. _newt’s letter. he’s turned it into a bracelet._ the air in his lungs nearly whooshes out of him like a heavy breeze. 

“i… just. i can’t stop thinking- i could’ve saved _newt_ . i could’ve stopped teresa. if i hadn’t run out, would i have saved alby too? what about _chuck_?” the words he knew were coming one day come out in a rush and on cue, the ocean responds to thomas’ emotions and roars lightly, waves crashing against rocks and the sand, slipping closer and embracing their knees before seeping back. “all this happened because of—”

time skips and so does minho. he doesn’t realize when he’s neared thomas and has put a palm over the other’s mouth, stopping him from speaking further. he groans, shaking his head in frustration. “newt and alby wouldn’t have been happy hearing you talk like that. or chuck.” he pauses, letting his hand fall with a sigh. “i, uh… don’t know about teresa but, thomas, listen to yourself. are you fucking serious? you got us out. you saved us. they-” now, it was his own turn to sound choked up, to feel his eyes burn and for tears to rush over the well-built dam. “they didn’t die for _nothing_ , thomas.” and it comes out as a whisper, a promise. his hand climbs from his own side to thomas’ shoulder, squeezing in reassurance before stepping away and to where the others wait for them. 

but it isn’t he who stops him— thomas murmurs something so quiet which stills minho and causes him to turn around to see shaking shoulders and a tilted gaze towards the sky.

later on, when they’re fast asleep under the stars, minho realizes that thomas had said: “thank you, minho.”

* * *

in the month that had passed them by after their last conversation about their dead friends, minho finds that he keeps staring at thomas. whether it be out of concern or something entirely else, he isn’t too sure, but he peers up from where he’s sat sharpening tools to glance at the other conversing with vince and brenda. they’re talking about running out for some supplies nearby, for some wood and to scope out the area a little more. his legs move on their own as his sharpening knife clatters to the table, finding himself wedging a presence for himself in between thomas and brenda. “can i go too?” a nonchalant arm and a grin has him leaning on thomas for half-hearted support. minho decides to ignore brenda’s sigh from the side. 

vince does a one-over between the two, then the three of them (brenda being included) before quirking a brow and asking if he’s even done with his own job which is a nod to his sharpening tools for the day. minho fumbles a bit, settling on an “of course, who do you think i am” response which leads thomas to break out into an exasperated grin. minho doesn’t realize the smile that curves on his own features at that but vince and brenda had noticed. it had been enough for them to agree. (brenda had jabbed minho in the side afterward, pulling him to the side and yanking him down so that she could grin viciously in his face.

“you owe me for this, minho.” she harrumphed as she let go of his shirt and picked up the sharpening knife to pick up where he left off. the man in question had blinked owlishly before fixing his clothes.)

so, now they’re wading through tall grass and using a scythe to cut a path to and fro in order to prevent getting lost but minho can only _stare_. “hey, minho,” thomas raises his head from in front of him and he snaps to attention almost immediately (like a puppy, he reflects belatedly). “i think we’ve got enough to go on from here. should we head back?” and thomas starts to turn but minho’s turning faster because, for some reason, he cannot have thomas looking at his expression, whatever the fuck it is currently. all he knows is that his cheeks are burning and his ears feel hot and his chest is tight. 

minho knows what this feeling is, felt it back in the maze for the first time the griever was killed, felt it in the scorch, felt it again in the last city when they came back for him (because his eyes fell on _him_ first and his feet had dragged over to _him_ first and his arms had encircled around _his_ shoulders first. his heart ached and his eyes burned when he gazed at _him_ because _his_ voice— ‘minho!’ echoed within the confinements ever since he had been taken away and it kept him alive and it had been then that minho could hear it again, in that embrace with _him_ and newt). minho had felt it again when thomas woke up a week later and he couldn’t stop his limbs from curling around the other’s form, careful but relieved. 

“minho?” he questions in a way where it sounds like there’s half a smile lingering on his lips but minho doesn’t dare turn to look over his shoulder for if he does, the heart sewed on his sleeve would give him away. all he does is give a grunt in response, picking up the forage and supplies they were sent out for. he’s, perhaps, a step too slow because thomas easily catches up and strides alongside him. it’s nightfall now so the chill easily drapes over their shoulders, which fills minho with a want to give his friend his jacket to keep him warm but he keeps to himself instead, shouldering his pack lightly. 

they walk back in silence, though it is comfortable. minho clears his throat before turning to look at thomas for the first time and startles when their gazes meet. “i—” he starts, then relaxes with a laugh, loose. what is he doing, really? “do you… remember the first time we ran the maze together?” it sounds idiotic, the way he words it, considering the fact that despite it being a long time ago, why would anyone forget such a horrific experience? minho feels the tips of his ears burn. is he really that desperate just to hear thomas speak?

but the male beside him humors him and huffs out a laugh, disbelieved and a little distant. “yeah… god, yeah. i just ran right in there because it didn’t feel right leaving you two in there. i couldn’t believe they would do that— just stand by and not do shit, you know?” minho grins a little, the flush reaching to the apples of his cheeks now but it’s dimmer, not too bright that thomas would catch sight of it. 

“it wasn’t even you being an official runner,” minho branches off thomas easily, peering at him from the side with a nostalgic sounding laugh. “you were just a greenie. i remember thinking, _damn_. that guy is fucking nuts.” they laugh together then, the sound twinkling into the sky as they walk down the path forged for them so they did not find themselves lost when wandering. “you were brave— braver than i was at least. it was damn respectable, you know.” 

and thomas stares at him in that way that forces minho’s heart to crawl into his throat— wide-eyed and lips parting just a bit, like there are words on the tip of his tongue but he cannot get them out. instead, he casts his gaze to minho’s shoulder with a light smile, shaking his head to humble himself which already has the taller groaning. “it was still dumb as hell,” minho cuts off quickly which causes thomas to fumble in laughter, surprised. 

and for the entire night, minho could be seen smiling as if there had been a permanent cure found for the entire world and that there had been a promise to return everything back to normal. frypan almost asked _why_ he seemed so giddy but to minho’s obliviousness, he didn’t even have to considering how clear minho had made it simply by the _staring_.

the flames of the bonfire, which lick up to the starry sky, reflect against thomas’ features rather nicely; it gives him a healthy glow despite everything the young adult has gone through in his life. minho cannot stop staring, honestly, but how can he? thomas looks almost ethereal like this, almost as if they were regular kids who hadn’t kissed death on the mouth several times. 

* * *

the drinks brewed in their safe haven were a lot better than back in the glade, brewed by frypan’s hand. minho sloshes his drink around in the metal cup a few times, then tips his head back to down the rest of it in one go. it burns his throat, a pleasant tingling skating down his body as warmth kisses him from head to toe, from fingertip to fingertip. he looks out at the ocean with a solemn expression almost, inhales the scent of sea salt as it sprinkles onto his cheeks, dirtied from the hard labor of the day.

to end the day like this, it nearly feels undeserving.

“hey,” a familiar voice calls out as it nears, as footsteps make themselves known. minho does not need to turn to wonder who it is, but he does smile— the ghost of one lingering upon his features. “what’s up?”

_what’s up_ , indeed— he’s not entirely sure what he’s thinking as he peers out at the ocean. his mind runs on static, the only thing it’s registering is the body warmth beside him and the burning of this drink brewed by vince. “not much. just, uh… thinking. i guess.” he sounds idiotic, he knows.

thomas lets out a hum, one of understanding, as he takes a noisy sip from his own cup. “it’s nice to think out here. away from the noise and the people. they don’t bother you.” minho turns now, glancing at thomas who’s face isn’t lit up from the bonfire’s ambience but from the moon’s gentle shine. he nods instead of murmuring that he looks pretty, swallows pushy words down his throat because he knows thomas is most likely not ready to hear them or to even accept his intentions nor his feelings. “i come here and uh, read newt’s letter from time to time. i don’t cry much now but, damn. he just has a way with words. it sucks.”

minho laughs quietly at that. “yeah, newt’s always been the sentimental shuckface. doesn’t look it but,” he pauses to take one last sip, the cup now hanging loosely by inebriated fingertips. “that’s just how he is. he knows how to burn his annoying presence in your mind. i don’t blame you. everyone still thinks about him, y’know.” maybe he sounds inconsiderate, but it’s true. thomas doesn’t need to think he’s alone in this. newt’s passing affected everyone. minho a little more than usual. yet, his pain for his friend’s death certainly could not surpass the amount of pain thomas had to have felt. the taller of the two sighs a little, free hand rubbing at the nape of his neck. he feels guilt and envy, the two emotions twining like thick vines within his chest. he doesn’t know how to push those painful thoughts away for thomas and if he knew how, he would do anything.

there’s no response from the person in question and minho turns his head to peer at him, to check if he hurt his feelings (and he would say he hardly cares if he did, that he only speaks the truth in blunt honesty but he would prefer to avoid hurting thomas’ feelings after everything). thomas only has a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes curving onto his features, however, nodding slowly and then hiding his face by drinking more of that burning liquid. “yeah, guess you’re right.” 

maybe those words, those saddened words, cause the anchor to drop to the pit of his stomach, cause time to slow it’s rapid pace for minho. guilt burns faster and harder than the brewed drink he had earlier but even moreso, the ache in his chest and the way his body moves faster than his mind. 

calloused hand, blistered fingertips, touch upon smooth skin (briefly, much later, minho’ll wonder on how thomas’ skin feels much more different to how he expected it to feel) and minho merely takes a single step to decrease the distance between them. thomas looks up at him with those serious yet telling eyes, those brown hues swimming with emotion that minho, oblivious and hard-edged with sarcasm as he is, can even read. he falters, but his heart pounds and yearns and aches. “i’m sorry,” he whispers, not sure if it’s more to himself or to the man before him. minho does not waste a second more to lean close and press his lips to thomas’, gentle and lingering but a tad chaste. the liquid churning within his stomach rushes to his head, causing minho to yank away from thomas, his ears a heady red tint. “i’m- fuck.” he would say that he does not know why he did what he did but he knows all-too-well why he even kissed his friend— it’s because he’s tired, sick and tired, of seeing thomas wear such a depressed expression around any mention of newt. minho wants to replace it with thoughts of himself, so that thomas would be distracted. 

_selfish shuckface, aren’t ya, minho? fuck, he’s gonna hate you now._ but when he expects a punch to the shoulder, the chest, or the face, it doesn’t come at all. no, thomas only stares at him with disbelief, horror, and surprise, which could possibly be worse than anything minho has come face-to-face with. “shit, thomas, i—” 

“what the hell, minho?” it happens in a flash where minho can barely process what’s happening between them but he registers the tug of his form-fitting shirt, the stumbling of feet on rocks, the sea salt scent swarming around them, and the taste of vince’s specialty drink on a pair of lips, tickling a tongue unfamiliar to him. 

_i want to run_ is the very first thought that pops up into his head as his body is unmoving, still, frozen in place. his fingers twitch but his hands find purchase on the other’s waist, pulling thomas closer as if this is something they’ve done more than once (maybe in minho’s dreams, but that’s a different thing altogether). _it feels wrong_ , minho thinks distantly. _but it also feels so, so right._ it feels too right, like two puzzle pieces finding their way to each other. his fingers clutch at the fabric he feels, pulls thomas a bit closer to him amidst the cold ocean breeze for warmth, for that familiar warmth he ached badly for when he had been locked up within wicked’s clutches. 

_thomas is here. thomas is in my arms. thomas is kissing me—_

_thomas is kissing me? wait._

and as if someone had snapped in his ears, had yanked him out like they had when he appeared in the Box for the first time, minho jerks against thomas’ mouth, causing him to pull away. the two of them are a neat shade of red, like how the sun tends to look when setting, confused yet relieved all at the same time. minho’s hand flies to his mouth for a bit, eyes as wide as can be while thomas rolls his eyes, clearly flustered. “why do you look like you regret it? didn’t you kiss me first? jesus, minho, i know i’m not the most experienced guy but if you didn’t like it-”

“no, shut up. thomas, if you say one more word, you’ll make me regret it anyway.” then they laugh the tension away, the tight knots that had formed begin to slip away and their bodies naturally begin to drift closer to one another. minho sighs into the sky, his ears burning like how his throat had been when he was drinking earlier. “i didn’t expect you to freaking- _kiss_ me back. i just- you keep getting sad over newt and, like, you can, i guess. but i just… don’t like it. seeing you upset like that.” quiet and lulling, the waves push and pull at the sand, at their feet, and if one looks closer, you can see the reflection of minho, thomas, but also their times in the glade. their times running away in the scorch. their times rescuing himself in the last city. the last moment before newt had fallen.

minho kicks at the waves roughly, his breath heavy but nearly gasping. “i know how badly it hurts, okay? i know. but i care about you… or whatever. even though you’re an annoying slinthead and you hurt yourself enough just so others can be safe. if i can do anything to… lighten your load, just- lean on me. we’ve been together since you came up in the glade. we ran together and we’re still running together.”

steely gaze turns to pin thomas with a serious, lightly flustered, and faux uncaring look, teeth catching at his lower lip briefly. “seriously, do i even have to say all this? c’mon, thomas.” minho sighs, again, his hand searching out thomas’ subconsciously, then his fingers curl and interlace between the other’s, squeezing and sharing warmth. “i like you, you idiot. i dunno when it happened, or when it started, but i do. and it’s annoying. so i hate seeing you like this and if i can do anything to make sure you’re all smiley or whatever, then i’ll do that. it’s the least i can do for what you did to me, okay?” a pause, several beats as his words sink into the soil, float along with the memories the ocean carries to burn another one along with the others. “just… let me do this.”

silence swells once minho’s words begin to taper off and he begins to wonder if he’s simply made a giant mistake by picking at each thread which sews his heart to his sleeve but thomas halts any doubt in its place by letting out an audible sigh. his gaze immediately snaps up from the ground to meet thomas’ hazelnut stare, glassiness evident in them. minho immediately wonders if he disgusted him enough that he’s crying but thomas, once again, proves to surprise him at every twist and turn.

“did i look that weak to you?” comes out every carefully handled word. “i didn’t mean to worry you, minho. i’m not so weak that i’ll break down over every little mention of newt because i’m not and i haven’t been for a few days now.” there’s that reminiscent tinge of annoyance, of anger, that minho even dared to see thomas in a weak light, which, okay, he deserved that. “but, uh. thanks. i think. it means a lot to me that you’d say this, minho. you, um- i care about you too and i’ve known that since the maze and maybe i realized it even more after rescuing you from wicked but, you know, things happened and…”

minho’s heart jumps in delight, beats in excitement as thomas shuffles around on the rocky path, one hand shoving itself in his pockets as the other haphazardly holds onto his metal cup. he knows what thomas is saying; he’d be an idiot if he didn’t even catch onto the meaning of those words, besides, the two have been running beside each other for years. they worked in tandem, their hands memorized the feel of each other’s palms, their feet moved in synchronization. minho swallows thickly, his mouth dry suddenly. he understands everything thomas is saying but he can’t quite believe it just yet.

maybe, his emotions are being written out on his visage too because thomas finally looks at him and groans, shoving at minho’s chest with a rough palm. “ _minho_.” his name sounds nice on thomas’ tongue too, the syllables of it rolling around and then falling delicately. that had been the last straw, minho realizes. he grabs those hands again, pulls him close to press another kiss to those waiting lips with a little noise, embarrassing emotions be damned. he’s alight with euphoria. 

immediately does thomas reciprocate the action and minho falls into that warmth time and time again. he relaxes against the other’s body, presses his forehead against chilly skin and bumps their noses clumsily. the water ripples and spreads around their ankles when it kisses their skin and for the first time since their arrival at the safe haven, minho hardly thinks about the harsh and aching memories the ocean carries. 

* * *

“so, what— do you like me too?”

“didn’t i say that?”

“you didn’t but i’m assuming from the way you can’t keep your hands off of me that you do.”

“... you don’t wanna hear me say it?”

“i don’t really care either way.”

thomas threatens to push minho into the water for that and minho can only grin cheekily in response, probably the hardest he’s ever smiled since he can remember anything at all. he grasps thomas’ hand gently and pulls him in to press a kiss to the other’s lips with a softer smile, his features melting down into fondness for thomas alone. 


End file.
